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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508517" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Room</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think the things I own and love<br> Acquire a sense of me,<br>That gives them value far above<br> The worth that others see.<br>My chattels are of me a part:<br> This chair on which I sit<br>Would break its overstuffed old heart<br> If I made junk of it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To humble needs with which I live,<br> My books, my desk, my bed,<br>A personality I give<br> They'll lose when I am dead.<br>Sometimes on entering my room<br> They look at me with fear,<br>As if they had a sense of doom<br> Inevitably near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet haply, since they do not die,<br> In them will linger on<br>Some of the spirit that was I,<br> When I am gone.<br>And maybe some sweet soul will sigh,<br> And stroke with tender touch<br>The things I loved, and even cry<br> A little,--not too much.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508517" data-title="My Room de Robert William Service" data-description="I think the things I own and love
 Acquire a sense of me,
That gives them value far above
 The worth that others see.
My chattels are of me a part:
 This chair on which I sit
Would break its overstuffed old heart
 If I made junk of it.

To humble ..."></div>
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